The _What_ is Mightier than the Sword? - 1 of 4
To tide us over while Xhamster sort out their policies, here's a thing I wrote a long time ago, before AI was a thing. You probably have to be a certain age and immersed in a certain fandom to "get it". But here you go...
The what is Mightier than the Sword? – 1 of 4
"So, as you can see, although he was but the lowest of serving boys, my Master is disconsolate at his a*****ion. I sent for you hoping you knew what a learned and wise lord Master Philo is and would help." The obsequious court flunky, Critius, wrung his hands in what he hoped was a pleading gesture and looked hopefully into the eyes of Xena. 'As long as she does not suspect what is really at stake here' he thought.
"The poor boy!" cried Gabrielle.
Xena sighed. "Certainly Philo is not the most noble of warlords." Critius looked distinctly worried at this. "But that still puts him above most others in this depraved region. Besides I hate slavers. It's a terrible thing to do to a k**."
Critius laughed nervously. "So, you will help?"
Xena sighed, "Sure, why not."
"Oh, thank you, thank you!" exclaimed Critius, going down on the ground and clasping Xena's knees with his tear-strewn face. 'I'm saved!' he thought. Xena cleared her throat and pursed her lips. Critius suddenly realized what position he was in and just how short her battle skirt was and quickly got up, a bit embarrassed. "Oh, the Master will be so delighted. He is riven with remorse. He keeps himself locked up in his tower with his books all day. It is not healthy!"
"Your master has a library?" asked Gabrielle, her interest piqued.
"Oh, yes! Master Philo is quite learned. He has many books. Actually, he fancies himself a bit of a writer as well."
"Oh, really?" exclaimed Gabrielle.
"Come on Gabrielle", said Xena.
"I meet so few other writers. Just a minute Xena", she said, disentangling herself from Xena's grasp. "I'll tell you what. Let me leave a few of my scrolls with you. It may cheer him up. I'd love to hear the opinion of a fellow writer." She giggled.
"Now, Gabrielle", said Xena. Grabrielle grabbed a number of scrolls at random and shoved them at Critius.
"Oh! I'm sure he'll be delighted!" Said Critius with forced cheer as Gabrielle was dragged away.
________________________________________
Philo lay in his upper chamber. The window was wide open and a breeze wafted in. A scented handkerchief lay across his face and many books lay open around him. Many were scrolls of vellum, other papyrus from far off Egypt. Lucien was well represented. Most appeared, at first glance, to be books on anatomy, colorfully illustrated.
Critius slowly entered the room, and crept toward the table, back to the wall. "What is it, Critius? There's no use sneaking, I know you're there." growled Philo.
"Ah?" said Critius, laughing nervously. "Surely you see all! And, are you feeling better?" He edged forward slightly, holding Gabrielle's scrolls to his chest.
"Under control Critius. Don't fret like a young colt."
Critius laughed nervously again. "I've hired some heroes, my master, to seek to return your serving boy."
"Ah!" cried Philo, raising his hand to his head in pain. "My little Rosebud!"
"Um, to distract you, one of them left some diversionary material." He edged forward and quietly placed the scrolls on the table. "Some ramblings from the Hero's chronicler. Maybe you'd like to criticize?" Philo turned his head under the handkerchief, glaring out one side speculatively at Ciritus. "Uh, ha, ha!" said Critius, "I'll just be going now!" He fled down the stairs.
________________________________________
Philo sighed expansively and rubbed the scented handkerchief over his bald head and beard once more. He glanced around at the books open around him, sighed and pushed them aside. The gulls cried over the water outside and he crinkled his brow in irritation. Sighing again he reached over and dragged the bundle of scrolls to his divan.
"Crap" he muttered. Leafing through one or two. "No pictures. Boring." He glanced through and read one or two more. "There is a sense of the heroic but is just too sappy. This hero Xena is obviously based on Xenaphon. And despite the obvious role of his little 'friend', Gabriel, the hero never gets it off with him!" He shook his head. One scroll was heavy and drew him with some unknown compulsion. "Oh, here's one with potential." He seized it and read it eagerly from top to bottom. "What? Where is the star of the title role?" He looked at the manuscript closer. "Oh, I see. There's a space between 'pen' and 'is'."
"This is the worst of the lot. It makes no sense. It is all disconnected with no good plot. A complete waste of vellum. And such a promising title." He moved to toss it aside but paused. "So, this trashy chronicler wants criticism. Let's see if we can at least salvage the paper."
He dragged himself up from the couch and placed himself at his table, his writing utensils and ink stones around him. He selected a sharp razor and began scr****g the vellum. As he did so the top layer of the skin containing the pigment of the writing started abrading. He then blew on it. The pigmented dust drifted in the breeze, giving off unseen magical sparkles. Much of what was there was sc****d away, but some of it was left. "Soon my dirty linen, you shall be a fresh white sheet. Waiting for me." Philo chuckled as he worked into the night. Outside the waves crashed on the rocky shore, sending up sheets of sea foam.
________________________________________
The embers of the fire gave off slight heat and light. Xena noted its presence more as a memory of what they had been when she drifted off to sleep. Judging by the crickets and slowly creeping light it was some short time before dawn. Her sleep had been troubled, and that disturbed her. It wasn't her battle sense or that creepy feeling she got when any of the Olympians were around. This was something else.
She turned over carefully, trying to preserve what heat she had accumulated under the blanket. Close, but not touching, lay Gabrielle, her surrogate sister. Often, she had watched her; laughing, cavorting about, or even just sleeping. It brought her peace and stilled her troubled mind. She could forget the past and hope for the future.
But tonight, it wasn't working. Her eyes followed Gabrielle's slim form. Her curves were almost boy-like from behind. And she had never noticed before, the way the blanket fell over that behind just what a perfect shape it was.
She shook herself and lay down flat. Her heart raced in her breast, and she wasn't quite sure why. Experimentally she looked back at Gabrielle and felt her eyes drawn down her figure. She looked away again quickly.
... to be continued.
The what is Mightier than the Sword? – 1 of 4
"So, as you can see, although he was but the lowest of serving boys, my Master is disconsolate at his a*****ion. I sent for you hoping you knew what a learned and wise lord Master Philo is and would help." The obsequious court flunky, Critius, wrung his hands in what he hoped was a pleading gesture and looked hopefully into the eyes of Xena. 'As long as she does not suspect what is really at stake here' he thought.
"The poor boy!" cried Gabrielle.
Xena sighed. "Certainly Philo is not the most noble of warlords." Critius looked distinctly worried at this. "But that still puts him above most others in this depraved region. Besides I hate slavers. It's a terrible thing to do to a k**."
Critius laughed nervously. "So, you will help?"
Xena sighed, "Sure, why not."
"Oh, thank you, thank you!" exclaimed Critius, going down on the ground and clasping Xena's knees with his tear-strewn face. 'I'm saved!' he thought. Xena cleared her throat and pursed her lips. Critius suddenly realized what position he was in and just how short her battle skirt was and quickly got up, a bit embarrassed. "Oh, the Master will be so delighted. He is riven with remorse. He keeps himself locked up in his tower with his books all day. It is not healthy!"
"Your master has a library?" asked Gabrielle, her interest piqued.
"Oh, yes! Master Philo is quite learned. He has many books. Actually, he fancies himself a bit of a writer as well."
"Oh, really?" exclaimed Gabrielle.
"Come on Gabrielle", said Xena.
"I meet so few other writers. Just a minute Xena", she said, disentangling herself from Xena's grasp. "I'll tell you what. Let me leave a few of my scrolls with you. It may cheer him up. I'd love to hear the opinion of a fellow writer." She giggled.
"Now, Gabrielle", said Xena. Grabrielle grabbed a number of scrolls at random and shoved them at Critius.
"Oh! I'm sure he'll be delighted!" Said Critius with forced cheer as Gabrielle was dragged away.
________________________________________
Philo lay in his upper chamber. The window was wide open and a breeze wafted in. A scented handkerchief lay across his face and many books lay open around him. Many were scrolls of vellum, other papyrus from far off Egypt. Lucien was well represented. Most appeared, at first glance, to be books on anatomy, colorfully illustrated.
Critius slowly entered the room, and crept toward the table, back to the wall. "What is it, Critius? There's no use sneaking, I know you're there." growled Philo.
"Ah?" said Critius, laughing nervously. "Surely you see all! And, are you feeling better?" He edged forward slightly, holding Gabrielle's scrolls to his chest.
"Under control Critius. Don't fret like a young colt."
Critius laughed nervously again. "I've hired some heroes, my master, to seek to return your serving boy."
"Ah!" cried Philo, raising his hand to his head in pain. "My little Rosebud!"
"Um, to distract you, one of them left some diversionary material." He edged forward and quietly placed the scrolls on the table. "Some ramblings from the Hero's chronicler. Maybe you'd like to criticize?" Philo turned his head under the handkerchief, glaring out one side speculatively at Ciritus. "Uh, ha, ha!" said Critius, "I'll just be going now!" He fled down the stairs.
________________________________________
Philo sighed expansively and rubbed the scented handkerchief over his bald head and beard once more. He glanced around at the books open around him, sighed and pushed them aside. The gulls cried over the water outside and he crinkled his brow in irritation. Sighing again he reached over and dragged the bundle of scrolls to his divan.
"Crap" he muttered. Leafing through one or two. "No pictures. Boring." He glanced through and read one or two more. "There is a sense of the heroic but is just too sappy. This hero Xena is obviously based on Xenaphon. And despite the obvious role of his little 'friend', Gabriel, the hero never gets it off with him!" He shook his head. One scroll was heavy and drew him with some unknown compulsion. "Oh, here's one with potential." He seized it and read it eagerly from top to bottom. "What? Where is the star of the title role?" He looked at the manuscript closer. "Oh, I see. There's a space between 'pen' and 'is'."
"This is the worst of the lot. It makes no sense. It is all disconnected with no good plot. A complete waste of vellum. And such a promising title." He moved to toss it aside but paused. "So, this trashy chronicler wants criticism. Let's see if we can at least salvage the paper."
He dragged himself up from the couch and placed himself at his table, his writing utensils and ink stones around him. He selected a sharp razor and began scr****g the vellum. As he did so the top layer of the skin containing the pigment of the writing started abrading. He then blew on it. The pigmented dust drifted in the breeze, giving off unseen magical sparkles. Much of what was there was sc****d away, but some of it was left. "Soon my dirty linen, you shall be a fresh white sheet. Waiting for me." Philo chuckled as he worked into the night. Outside the waves crashed on the rocky shore, sending up sheets of sea foam.
________________________________________
The embers of the fire gave off slight heat and light. Xena noted its presence more as a memory of what they had been when she drifted off to sleep. Judging by the crickets and slowly creeping light it was some short time before dawn. Her sleep had been troubled, and that disturbed her. It wasn't her battle sense or that creepy feeling she got when any of the Olympians were around. This was something else.
She turned over carefully, trying to preserve what heat she had accumulated under the blanket. Close, but not touching, lay Gabrielle, her surrogate sister. Often, she had watched her; laughing, cavorting about, or even just sleeping. It brought her peace and stilled her troubled mind. She could forget the past and hope for the future.
But tonight, it wasn't working. Her eyes followed Gabrielle's slim form. Her curves were almost boy-like from behind. And she had never noticed before, the way the blanket fell over that behind just what a perfect shape it was.
She shook herself and lay down flat. Her heart raced in her breast, and she wasn't quite sure why. Experimentally she looked back at Gabrielle and felt her eyes drawn down her figure. She looked away again quickly.
... to be continued.
Pre 10 meseca/meseci